


Two Seconds

by Lady_Sci_Fi



Series: The Life and Times of Mike Yates and John Benton [12]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Sci_Fi/pseuds/Lady_Sci_Fi
Summary: Two seconds. That was all that separated Captain Mike Yates between freedom and capture by Global Chemicals.
Relationships: John Benton/Mike Yates
Series: The Life and Times of Mike Yates and John Benton [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978336
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Two Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during the tv story "The Green Death."

Two seconds.

That was all that separated him and the Doctor as they ran to escape Global Chemicals.

Two seconds. Enough to allow the security door to come down between them.

Through the small window at the top, Mike saw the Doctor stop and turn back. Mike urged him to keep going, to escape with the information he’d gotten. To leave him behind.

It was only a few seconds after that the guards caught up and seized his arms, painfully yanking them behind his back and pulling him along after them. Away from the door, away from freedom. He could only hope the Doctor would get away completely.

“Let me go!” Mike shouted out, attempting to put up more than a token struggle. There was no point in trying to look innocent, trying to keep his cover. That was well and truly blown. He snapped his head back to catch a guard in the nose. His grip released one of Mike’s arms, and he used it to backhand another guard. He kicked out at a third.

A punch to his jaw left Mike stunned enough for the guards to get him back under control. Once the stars disappeared from his vision, Mike dug his heels in to stop them forcing him along. “Let me go!”

They tossed him back-first into a wall. One guard kneed him in the stomach, and another elbowed him in the back as he doubled over.

“Stop resisting, if you know what’s good for you.”

Mike looked up at them, and received another hard knee to his midsection for his defiant expression. He pounced for the gap between two of them. They caught his arm and back of his jacket and tossed him into the waiting arms of the other two guards.

They kicked in in the back of one knee, forcing him down to it. One grabbed his hair and yanked it. “Almost as spirited as your friend.”

As long as the Doctor made it out, Mike could take whatever they were going to give to him. He didn’t say anything, but a guard savagely backhanded him anyway. Mike could taste a little blood on his bottom lip. 

Their grips on him were somehow tighter this time as they marched him along, through the corridors and up to Steven’s office.

“We caught him trying to escape with the Doctor,” a guard explained before Stevens could ask the question.

Stevens stood from his desk chair. “Did you now?” He slowly stepped towards Mike and the guards. “Man from the Ministry, indeed.”

Mike didn’t respond, simply held the other man’s gaze.

“A friend of the Doctor, are you? One of that UNIT lot?” Stevens circled him once and stopped in front of him. “That must be it, sent here as their inside man. Smart.” He chuckled. “But, now you’re here, in quite the predicament.”

“Do your worst,” Mike goaded. If he could keep Stevens occupied with him long enough, the Doctor would have more time to put together a plan.

“Brave man. Foolishly so. You and your friends are interfering, and I cannot allow that.”

“Then stop what you’re doing and we won’t interfere any more,” Mike countered.

Then Stevens froze, tilting his head as though he was listening to something. Whatever it was, Mike couldn’t hear it. The strange moment was brief, and Stevens said, “I think so, too.”

Mike didn’t have time to be confused before Stevens again stepped in close.

“You’ll be quite useful.”

Mike shook his head. “As a hostage? Forget it, they won’t let that stop them.”

“No, not as a hostage.” Stevens looked to the guards. “Let him go.”

Mike rolled his shoulders forward to stretch them as his arms were finally released.

Stevens gestured to a chair near a cabinet and shelf unit. “Please, Mr Yates, have a seat.”

Somehow, Mike felt a sense of danger from the cordial request. “No, I’d rather stand, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind.” Stevens sighed, and gestured to the guards.

They seized Mike again, and forced him over to that chair. They pushed him down into it, and held him down by his shoulders.

Mike’s eyes widened as metal cuffs from within the chair snapped around his wrists, restraining him. “What is this?” he demanded. As the guards let him go and backed away to the door.

“I don’t expect you’ll stay there willingly,” Stevens replied.

Mike closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. There was no need to panic. He’d been tortured before, if this was where this was going. Certainly, they couldn’t do anything that could match what had happened to him that one time especially.

He flinched as something came to rest on his head and cover his ears. Headphones?

He cried out at the sudden sharp pain in his head… his mind? It happened again longer, feeling as though it was stabbing into him. His fingers splayed and his body stiffened from the agony. He cried out again, and shook his head, trying to dislodge the headphones.

“Don’t resist it, Mr Yates. It’s better this way. What we’re doing…”

Stevens’ voice drifted in and out of Mike’s awareness.

_“I have a task for you.”_

It wasn’t Stevens. The voice was deeper and… slightly electronic? “What? Hello?” His second question morphed into a drawn out cry at another intense pain in his head.

_“I have a task for you.”_

The voice boomed in his mind. “I won’t,” he protested. This time, he screamed at another wave of agony.

_“I can cause you so much pain, Mr Yates. It would be easier for you to cooperate.”_

Mike shook his head. And then, the stabbing and searing pain somehow worsened. His hands curled into tight fists, and his legs thrashed.

He screamed again. It felt like something was tearing through him, through his mind, his thoughts. “Stop! Please! Stop!” Hot tears stung his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. “Stop, please!” he screamed. Tearing, ripping, clawing with overwhelming heat.

_“You will kill the Doctor.”_

“No!”

The pain intensified, leaving Mike voiceless for a brief moment before another scream ripped from his throat. It felt like a red-hot knife stabbing and twisting in his mind. “Stop! I won’t!”

_“You will kill the Doctor.”_

Mike couldn’t even verbally protest this time. Could only thrash his body and arch his back in a vain attempt to escape the pain.

_“Kill the Doctor. Kill the Doctor. Kill the Doctor…”_

Mike couldn’t escape it, couldn’t escape the dominating voice in his head, couldn’t escape the agony in his head.

Then, the voice stopped, the knife in his head stopped piercing, though the pain only slowly faded. He slumped forward until his head hung limply. Whimpers accompanied his breaths. Tears streamed down his face, and directly dropped from his eyes to his trousers.

A hand gripped his hair and pulled his head up. Mike could only blink heavily as his vision cleared to reveal Stevens’ face.

“What is your task?”

“Task? My task…”

“Yes. Kill the Doctor.”

“Kill… kill the Doctor? No, no, that’s… that’s not right.” Mike shook his head, and hissed at the pain the motion caused. The Doctor was his friend. He would never hurt him.

Stevens sighed. “You’re quite strong-willed, Mr Yates.” He let go of Mike’s hair.

Mike’s eyes widened in fear as the headphones were placed on him again. “No! No, don’t, please!”

_“Kill the Doctor. Kill the Doctor…”_

Mike screamed again, from the pain and to try to drown out the voice.

 _“Your task is to kill the Doctor… Kill him…”_ The words accompanied another twist of the hot knife. _“You will kill the Doctor…”_

There was no way to know how long the torment lasted until it stopped. Mike came back to his senses to find his head lolling sideways against his shoulder. And he felt… why did he feel strange? He couldn’t quite put words to it.

“Mr Yates?”

Mike raised his head and looked at Stevens.

“What is your task?”

“My task… my task is to… to kill the Doctor.” Mike flinched at the words that came from his own mouth. He would never say that, but… why was he saying it? Even worse, he could feel that murderous intent in him. Why? How?

“Very good.”

The cuffs opened and freed his arms, and he looked to his wrists in confusion.

“Stand,” Stevens commanded.

Mike did so, though it took a few seconds for his feet to feel steady under him.

Stevens held out a handgun. “Clean yourself up, and go complete your task.”

“Yes, sir.” Mike nodded once and took the weapon.

Stevens stepped aside, and Mike walked out of the office.

********

Mike hid in the Wholeweal compound’s lab, knowing the Doctor would no doubt go there. Under the table would have to do. He froze as he heard the Doctor come in, muttering about something. He couldn’t do this, he wouldn’t… but his own will didn’t win out, and the other side forced him out of his hiding place.

“Mike! You don't know how glad I am to see you. How did you get away?”

“They let me go.” He answered simply. It wasn’t a lie.

“But why?”

“To kill you.” Mike’s hand pulled out the gun, and he aimed it at his friend with both hands. “You do see that I… have to kill you, don’t you?”

“Gently, Mike. Fight it.”

“It is necessary to kill you.” He had to do this. He had to. For the good of everyone. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t actually pull the trigger.

“No, it is not necessary. Your orders are false. Do you understand me? False!”

It wasn’t necessary, but his task, his instructions insisted it was. His finger on the trigger twitched, and stilled. Every motion and non-motion was a hard struggle.

Then the Brigadier came in, and Mike aimed the gun at him for a second before returning it to the Doctor. “Stay back!” Killing the Brigadier wasn’t necessary, wasn’t his task.

“Captain Yates, what are you-“

“Stay where you are! I have my instructions.”

“Instructions?” The Brigadier stepped halfway in front of the Doctor. “Who from?”

Why did the Brigadier have to come in and make this complicated? He was only supposed to kill the Doctor, but if he had to shoot the Brigadier to do that…

“Keep quiet, Brigadier,” the Doctor hissed.

Then the Doctor pulled a large blue crystal from his pocket. Something in Mike allowed the Timelord to do it. If it could stop him from completing his task, could prevent him hurting the Brigadier, at least…

“Watch it, Mike. Watch it carefully, Mike.”

Mike focused on the crystal, almost like he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. The end emitted a blue glow. Dimming and brightening, pulsing. Filling his vision, his mind. It felt… cold, somehow. Then it began to hurt, and he whimpered. He let go of the gun with one hand to clutch at the side of his head.

Yet, he couldn’t move his gaze away. The blue light and coldness seemed to spread through him.

And then, there was an agonizing sensation of fire, then ice. The pistol fell from his hand as he cried out. His hand at the side of his head fisted in his hair.

He was aware of falling as his vision quickly faded from blue to black.

“…trained soldier. He’s been taught to withstand that sort of thing.”

Mike could barely focus on the familiar voice above him as his eyes slowly blinked open.

“… been a dead man by now. You too, probably.”

Mike jolted in panic. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the nuthatch.”

“Where?”

“Professor Jones’ house.”

How had he… When…? Mike sat halfway up and rubbed at the side of his face and ran his hand through his hair. He’d been sent to kill the Doctor, kill his friend, but he’d… resisted? He hadn’t done it because… “That blue light…”

“Yes, well, you’ll be alright now, old chap,” the Doctor assured.

“Well, Captain Yates, you’re well out of Global Chemicals,” the Brigadier said.

“I’m afraid he’s not,” the Doctor countered.

Mike’s head snapped to look at the Timelord.

The Doctor did look apologetic as he explained, “I’m going to ask you to go back. Do you think you feel up to it?”

Mike looked straight ahead again, and blew out a breath. Go back? If he was honest, no, he certainly didn’t feel up to it. Not after what they had done to him. But, if the Doctor needed him to, he would have to. He would do whatever needed to be done to help this mission, to end the threat.

He swallowed, and took a deep breath. “Right as rain, Doctor.” His voice shook, though he hoped he still sounded more confident than he felt.

“I'm sorry to have to ask you to do this but there's some information that I simply must have. Now, here's what I want you to do.”

Mike listened, though his anxiety quietly rose. If Stevens caught him again…

********

Mike could only watch in confusion as the man he was talking to clutched his head and fell to the floor. He heard a click from the closed door next to him, then quickly turned at the voice he definitely didn’t want to hear.

“Just can’t depend on anyone, can you, Mr Yates.”

Mike pounced for the door, no point in playing innocent now. But the handle only jiggled uselessly. “Damn!” he swore at the locked door. He turned to face Stevens and the guards. If only he still had the gun, which was now in Stevens’ hand.

“Open the door,” Mike demanded.

“You disappoint me, Mr Yates,” Stevens replied. “That will not go unpunished.”

Mike knew there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, to stop whatever was to happen next. He was caught, again. Though he wasn’t going to submit easily.

He struggled against the strong grips of the guards as they seized his arms. He managed to shove one off and elbow him in the stomach. A second struck him at the base of his neck, sending him forward to a third. That one brought his knee up, probably aiming for Mike’s chest but catching him square on the mouth instead.

Mike quickly tasted blood, and turned his head to stop a punch from striking his face. It hit his shoulder instead. A kick to his back sent him sprawling forward to the floor. The group descended on him.

Someone stomped on his exposed left hand, and Mike screamed. Not from the pain, exactly, but from the flashing memory of previous trauma, and he instantly clutched it to his chest.

He curled into a ball to protect as much of himself as he could. He grunted at every kick to his back and legs.

“That’s enough. No need to become complete savages.”

The guards stopped their assault, and Mike took the moment to simply breathe thorough the new aches.

“Get him over here.”

Mike’s eyes shot open at Stevens’ command, knowing what it meant. “No! Don’t, please!” He tried to get up, but a fist across his face dazed him enough to not resist as they half-lifted him and dragged him to that damn chair. He tasted more blood, this time trickling down from his nose.

His senses returned at the feel of the cuff snapping around his wrists and restraining him to the chair. “No! Please, don’t! Don’t!”

Mike kicked out and tried to thrash his way out of this as the headphones came over him. “No! No!” He had a brief thought if the crystal in his pocket could protect him.

There were no words, none of that voice, in his head this time. Only agony. Hot, stabbing, tearing agony. This wasn’t conditioning, this is purely punishment.

Mike screamed and cried through it, salty tears joining the taste of blood in his mouth.

He couldn’t think of anything else, feel anything else. Couldn’t form any coherent thoughts, except how much it hurt.

He couldn’t know how long it lasted, until it finally ended. His tear-blurred vision blacked out, only for a second or two, because when it returned, he saw the floor rush up before he heavily crashed against it. He didn’t even have the strength to curl up from any potential further abuse. It took all his strength to simply stay conscious, lying on his front, one side of his face against the carpet. He could barely think to do anything else.

Even though the immediate harshest of the pain was gone, it still lingered, fading so very slowly. He blinked heavily, and a dark shape crouched down in front of him. He saw the white handkerchief an instant before it wiped at his nose and mouth.

“It won’t do have you bleeding on the carpet,” Stevens explained.

Mike could only give a pitiful whimper through his ragged breaths in response.

Stevens stood, and ordered, “You know where to take him. Make certain he can’t escape.”

Mike was barely aware of the guards roughly grabbing his arms and lifting him to his feet. He couldn’t support himself, his feet dragging along the floor as they took him from the office.

His eyes fluttered closed, though he stayed conscious. His head felt like it had been split, and he couldn’t quite get any coherent thoughts to form.

A few minutes later, he offered no resistance as they lifted his arms and tied his wrists with chains. His eyes snapped open and he cried out from the sudden pain as the guards let him go and his shoulders wrenched. He struggled to get his feet solidly enough under himself. He barely heard one of the guards taunt, “Not getting out of that,” before they left him.

Mike whimpered as his feet slipped out from under him. He could only hang limply there for a moment before he gathered his strength enough to stand.

Alone. At least he was alone now. And while it all still hurt so very badly, he didn’t feel strange as he had before. No conditioning this time. His mind was his own.

Between being chained up like this, the intense pain, and the colour of the grey walls around him, Mike drifted between memories and reality. Time spent in someone else’s clutches. It made it worse, not knowing what to expect from moment to moment.

He must’ve blacked out, because the next time he opened his eyes, his shoulders were heavily aching and protesting at his weight again being only supported by his restrained wrists above his head. He more easily managed to steady his feet this time.

Information… He had been here for information, Mike recalled hazily. Had he gotten it? He’d been talking to someone before… before Stevens put the headphones on him. Something about… about a boss?

Mike shook his head, and regretted the action at the flare of pain it brought. Not a boss… the BOSS. That computer. But what about it? What was it going to do? Had he been given that information? A word came to him. Takeover. Time… time… Four? Four sounded right. He tried to look at his watch, but couldn’t turn his wrists or crane his neck enough to see it. And even if he could, his vision kept swimming and blurring. All he could do was hope he still had enough time left.

A little time later, with the agony in his head faded to a tolerable level, Mike had the strength to test the chains by pulling at them. He maneuvered his hands to try to slip them free. He blew out a frustrated breath and gave up a moment after.

He had to get out of here, get the little information he’d gotten to the Doctor. Make all this worth it.

But in the end, he had to wait. Wait until the door behind him opened. “Well, young man, you have escaped us once. Believe me, it won't happen again. Bring him along.”

Mike was still weak and half-dazed as the guards released his wrists from the chains and put his arms over their shoulders to carry him out. Mike had enough presence of mind to act even weaker, essentially being deadweight. What did Stevens have planned for him this time? Whatever it was, he could not find out, doubted he could take much more of this abuse.

When they got to the lift, Mike sprang to action, straightening up and shoving the two guards into the lift after Stevens. As soon as the door began closing, he anxiously glanced around, trying to remember the way out, then ran.

He found himself on a balcony, then jumped down onto a roof that went over the perimeter fence, then down to the ground. He checked his watch as he chose a direction and kept going. He still had time. Enough time, if he didn’t get too lost on the way back. At least the pain in his head was mostly gone now.

Mike pushed himself, still exhausted from the torture. He was away from the immediate danger, but the fears of being caught again and of being too late spurred him on.

Finally, he spotted UNIT jeeps in the distance, among the slag heaps. He spotted two people at the edge of the group, and hurried to them, stumbling through the loose dirt. “Brigadier, sir! The computer, sir! The computer!”

Benton rushed to him, and Mike nearly collapsed in his arms. “Steady on, sir,” Benton consoled. In a quieter voice, he tenderly added, “I’ve got you.”

Mike spared a second to wish they weren’t pressed for time, because he wanted nothing more than to spend several minutes enveloped by Benton’s strong steady hold.

Before the Brigadier reached them, Mike looked into his partner’s face and nodded at the silent question. He could keep going. There would be time for comfort later.

********

Not long after the impromptu party had gotten underway, Mike slipped away to find the restroom. He felt alright. Well, as alright as he could after such a day.

He looked at himself in the mirror, and washed off the streaks of dirt on his face and tiny spots of dried blood on his chin. Once that was done, he simply stood there for a long moment, feeling the fatigue come over him.

The day was saved. Global Chemicals, Stevens, and that damn computer were no longer a threat to anyone. Mike shivered at the too-fresh memory of what had happened to him there.

Mike shook his head, stepped out, and smiled to find Benton leaning against the wall next to the door. Benton half-smiled back, and gestured with his head for Mike to follow him.

They ducked inside a half-open door, into an empty room with an unlit fireplace. Benton mostly-closed the door behind them, then pulled Mike into a tight hug. Mike wrapped his arms around him, and relished in the comfort.

When they pulled apart, Benton asked, “You alright?”

Mike sat on one of the armchairs, and looked up to his partner. “Only tired and perhaps still a little shaken up. I'll have a few bruises.” He smiled assuredly. “I’m alright. Truly, I am.” He was being completely honest. Then he blew out a hard breath at a realization.

“What?” Benton kneeled down in front of him.

“Just… two seconds.”

Benton’s brow furrowed. “Two seconds for what?”

“Well, if I’d been about two seconds faster, none of this-“ Mike tapped his temple. “Would’ve happened. They wouldn’t have caught me.”

Benton took Mike’s hand between both of his. “The Doctor mentioned something about them trying to make you kill him.”

“I’ll tell you the details later.” At Benton’s concerned expression, Mike assured, “I am fine, I promise.”

Benton nodded. “Good.”

Mike stared down at their hands for a moment. “Perhaps it worked out for the better this way. I got the information the Doctor needed to stop them.”

Benton exhaled slowly. “I’m sure we would’ve figured out a way without you having to go through all that.”

Mike half-smiled and nodded. He lifted his hand to caress Benton’s neck and pulled him close until their foreheads touched. He wanted to do more, to kiss him and could feel Benton wanted to do the same. But they wouldn’t risk it here, where anyone could walk in on them. This still and quiet intimacy would do.

Eventually, Mike apologetically suggested, “We should get back to the party before anyone comes looking for us.”

Benton sighed, his breath on Mike’s lips. “I suppose so.” He nudged his nose against Mike’s before he pulled away.

Mike stood, and gave a teasing grin. “That woman you were dancing with especially might miss you. Between her and Ms Hawthorne, you’ll get a reputation.”

Benton chuckled bashfully. As they left to return to the party, their hands briefly interlocked.

Two seconds.

Mike didn’t know, couldn’t have possibly known, how those two seconds would come to haunt him, to hurt him, in the future.


End file.
